


Sunlight

by stellarel



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28769802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarel/pseuds/stellarel
Summary: Literally just a bunch of softness and all the fluff.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Sunlight

The Doctor smiles.

She smiles, before opening her eyes. She smiles without thinking about it first, without it being a decision, without it being a part of a performance, and realizing this makes something inside her melt, a little bit.

The TARDIS was quiet, there was only the steady barely-there background hum, and somewhere in the back of her head the Doctor registers that this must be one of those small dimensional pockets where time stood still.

It must be.

It was so calm, so gentle, and she could feel the artificial sunlight warm her skin, and there was just no way a moment in real life could be this good.

Real life was always so hectic. But this was gentle and soft and good.

The TARDIS must have made her one of those hideaway time pockets, to let her rest without worrying about which corner of the universe needed saving now.

Yes, that must be it.

"Morning." You mutter from somewhere close but out of sight.

The Doctor opens her eyes, and then she realizes several different things at the same time;

It wasn't a time pocket she was in.

It was your bed.

And you were in there with her.

Suddenly it makes a lot more sense why the bed felt so warm and why the air around her felt like it was stuffy from dreams.

Reality trickles back into her mind, slowly. This wasn't a new thing, waking up together, not anymore, but she still wasn't used to it. _She doesn't think she could ever get used to it._

Every day, it felt just a bit too good to be true, just calm and _perfect_ enough to make her suspect it was either a dream, a hallucination, or a trap, somehow.

It never was. So far, it had always been real, and she couldn't quite wrap her mind around it, but it was real this time, too.

She wasn't alone, and you were here, soft and warm and safe, and it felt like time stood still. Like finally, finally she didn't have to run just to keep up; she could just _be_ and everything would be okay.

"Morning." She answers, quietly, voice raspy from disuse.

You stir a little next to her, shifting in your place and burying your face to the crook of her neck.

The Doctor takes a moment just to marvel at the way this new point of contact felt ( _good_ , it mainly felt good) and she lets herself slip back to the comfortable, hazy not-quite-awake-yet state.

Everything was good.

This wasn't something she had known to miss, before, but if someone tried to take it away from her now, she would fight tooth and nail for it.

You drape one of your arms over her, and she instinctively shifts, molds herself into your shape, and wraps her arms around you protectively.

Something inside of her chest settles, calm and warm and golden, and as the Doctor closes her eyes, her last coherent thought is that the blood in her veins feels like sunlight.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's on being single on month 10 of quarantine!


End file.
